say it with me now ... i have a dream

road warrior mentality happens when you're obsessive compulsive and you're stuck on the road with a bunch of people you don't really know or have any reason to get to know, for a grueling 72 hours away from the comfort of your sanctuary at home. "hey, have you checked out the bed?" who had TIME or ENERGY to do that? besides ... the pillows always suck. they're either these squooshy floofy things that feel like they're going to smother you in your sleep, or flat things reminiscent of the first time your sister decided to make pancakes from scratch and got creative. and you're searching madly through everything you brought (OKAY i SHOULD have brought the kitchen sink because this one suxxors!) looking for something you really really need RIGHT NOW and suddenly realize you know exactly where it is ... right there, back at home, on the counter with all the OTHER stuff you set down, because you have to pack those last. running to walmart isn't an option because you'll never find a decent replacement for it. and besides, there's no time to do that.
so ... just a short time before i was scheduled to FINALLY leave for home, i found myself alone with a fellow obsessive compulsive and we stood there, exhausted yet amazed at what we managed to pull off amidst the insanity. and suddenly (it must have been the combination of the stress of obsessing, the exhaustion of being compulsive, and a handful of hershey chocolate nuggets) we simultaneously started dreaming outloud about ...
you've guessed it ...
how incredible if we could get our hands on a small bus, you know? like those ones that are about half the size of a regular bus ... we could convert it to a mobile office ... a sanctuary ... visions of an office with lots of counter, white boards, outlets, wifi, laptops and printers, supplies, small meeting table with seating, a stow space for luggage and bins, with a small galley to accomodate a refrigerator, pantry, sink, crockpots, small microwave, okay and maybe a bed or whoa, how about bench seating that can convert to a bed ...
the mind boggles.
and now that i'm home, i sit here and wonder how much it would cost.

prom time headaches

prom time. a great time for people to experience sudden onset anxiety, neuroses, and temporary insanity.

all the girls have gone nuts. have you SEEN the price of dresses? can you BELIEVE that it's such a BIG BIG DEAL that the shoes, purse, wrap, jewelry, make-up, hair ... all that has to be coordinated at great expense for this ONE SINGLE night? and what are you going to do with the dress afterwards? its not like you can wear it on a regular DATE or anything. yeah. what a pita.

and the guys. come on ... you've gotta feel sorry for the guys:

"i don't wanna go. prom is stupid."

"LMAO you can't find a date, huh."

"did you ask her yet?"

"shut up! why? who did you ask?"

"she's making all these PLANS."

"do we REALLY have to dress up?"

"yeah. my mom said i have to cut my hair."

and the whole girl thing at school.

"what about him?"

"him? HIM???? no way. not HIM."

"well, okay, what about him?"

okay, and there's the rebels, right? the ones who decide they're not gonna dress up or go out of their way to do anything special, or anything because it's just a dance, right?

and of course, the PLANS.

"post prom is at ..."

"LAME! we're going to ..."

"whoa, did you hear? she says they got a room at ..."

"wow, can you believe his DAD said ..."

"she doesn't know yet, but HE says ..."

"don't tell him, but SHE promised YOU-KNOW-WHO they would ..."

"oh, man. i heard HE was going to ..."

"yeah? hey ... my MOM is going to be there. i ain't going!"

and the mystery date:

"i've never dated him, but ... he asked me."

"i don't know what she's like, but she seems nice."

"okay my mom won't approve of him, but i hear ..."

"he said she's a b**** but i think she's hot."

yeah. it's almost spring. let the hormones flow, huh.

miniatures

just spent about two and a half hours going thru just about everything in this craft store, looking at miniatures. it was pretty cool. some of the stuff is crud, but i found some decent pieces. so i'm walking around going through every shelf display, and suddenly wonder why i'm doing this. it's like ... i SO don't need more stuff, you know? its just more stuff that the dog will try to eat, or i'll accidentally knock over getting something off the shelf.

... yeah, but i really do love miniatures. someday i want to learn how to blow tiny glass figurines. not the glued together junk (i don't CARE if its crystal, if its glued together it isn't the same thing, you know?) ... not that kind of stuff, but the good stuff you used to see a lot in small stores ... the stuff you look at and okay, it's not perfect, but you KNOW just looking at it, that somebody made it by hand, you know? it's like ... patterns are okay, and craft books, yeah ... but you can tell when somebody sat down with a bunch of stuff and just ... well ... their brain just lit up with creative fire, you know?

there used to be this cool store in colorado springs that had these glass animals. the artisan started with a glass marble, and then melted more glass onto the marble to make these little animals. awesome ... expensive, yeah, but awesome. i love looking at stuff people create.

i also love reading suki's writing, even if she thinks i don't. i can read her stuff and get an amazing sense of the story she's telling, you know? it's like ... some people have to do these intricate action packed giant novels to get their message across, and more power to them. but i just love sitting back with a cup of coffee and reading suki's latest work. some of it is very dark, some is just pure fantasy, some is really crazy fun to read ... but all of it's good. even the stuff she's just in rough draft on. amazing.

obsessive compulsive is good

other night i printed out this file of notes i wrote last year at and after a team weekend trip. the file is totally my personal notes, you know? its a long weekend, so i wrote down stuff that worked, stuff that suxxored, things to remember about certain people like food preferences, who's allergic to what, who can't do certain kinds of food cos of religion ... those kinds of things.

stuff like ...

"R can't have chocolate ... didn't know she'd get the runs!! then why'd she eat it?"

"K goes OCD about degerming if someone lies down on her sleeping bag"

"X can't eat pepperoni pizza (muslim) ... don't forget to order a second choice
"dang ... 12 vegetarians ... we should have made the salad bigger?"
"G grabs other people's drinks to take a sip ... ewwwwwwwwww"

okay, so, at a meeting, i'm sitting there reading over my notes and trying to remember what ELSE i must have forgotten to write down or just plain didn't know about, like how many other folks went on a run for more ice and soda, and stuff like that, because i thought all they're talking about is trying to remember what we did last year and some of it was stuff i didn't have on my list ... and the guy next to me (who i didn't realize was even looking my way) starts saying out loud, "ask HER ... she's got all her notes from last year in her notebook" ...

i was like ........... ACK! ACK! ACK!

the whole room turns to look at me like ... "you took NOTES??? what kind of freak ARE you???"

*snarling*

well, apparently, the kind that doesn't believe "'i'll remember it next year" huh??? geeeeeesh

stuck btw rock n hard place

... wonder what to do. my friend is kind of ... ummm ... hardbutt about things like behavior. she's best known for her *SNAP* reactions to stuff, like, she'll go nuts at the first sign before anything happens, you know?

at the other end of the spectrum are a couple of people who aren't friends, but just because they're not friends, doesn't mean we don't end up having to spend time together. for some reason, they've gone off the deep end about my friend. they come up to me when she's not looking, and say i should slap her into place, or put in a complaint about her.

yanno, it isn't cool that they won't say anything in front of her, or to her. it's totally NOT cool that they come to me constantly to say i should bitch about her. personally, while i think she's kind of hardbutt, it's really not much of a problem for me. it's like ... if it bothers them so much, why aren't they talking to her about it???

on the other hand, if i totally blow off their bitching, i'm screwed the next time we're on a group project or committee together

what's important?

they always say hindsight is 20/20 yadda yadda yadda ... but that doesn't help when i'm here and now feeling like i'm drowning in stuff! so ... i'm looking at my stuff and trying to decide what's important.

like, what stuff in my bag is crucial, and what can go? how old is this lip gloss? if they can put NAMES on the stupid capsules and tablets, why can't they put expiration dates on aspirin and allergy medicine? do i really need to keep all these itty bitty scraps of papers? why? and whose phone number is this anyway? whoa ... the print fades on receipts? how old is this one lol

it goes farther than my bag, too. which clothes are keepers, and which ones do i toss? is it going to come back as retro, or what? am i going to remember these people in these pictures a million years from now, and will i really care that i kept the picture? look at all these books and cds and movies ... which books do i really want to keep, and which ones can i ditch? which cds were a trend and which ones do i actually listen to? should i bother figuring out how to transfer these movies to dvd? its time for a garage sale.

i like crafting, but i almost wish i could narrow down my interests like my friends do. they have one, MAYBE two kinds of crafts they get into, and that's all they keep around. me, i like to try out different things, sometimes combine stuff for different effects, experiment with random assortments of schtuff ... and that means tonnes of craft crap in plastic bins because geeeeez, ya never know when you'll think of something and be wondering if you have the stuff on hand or if you're gonna have to haul butt to the store to find it ...

think i've come to the conclusion that i need a house just for my art stuff, you know?